Sometimes Monday ...

... is a day to wonder what this might mean.

 

Justin was showing me some "cool quotes" he had saved on Instagram and this was one of them. I'm not exactly sure what it means, but I've found myself thinking about it a lot over the past couple of weeks. Sometimes I wake up wondering what it might mean, and other times it's the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. 

 

In order to stop thinking about it so much, I thought I'd ask, what do you think it might mean? It's a haunting quote and I'd like to have better understanding of it. 

 

Now if this is too much for a Monday morning, how about something a little simpler?

 

I'm well past midlife but I can definitely get behind knitting, birdwatching, and reading with cats! 

 

Thanks in advance, and I hope you have a good Monday! 

Things Are Looking Up

 

Today is looking so much better than the rest of the week. We had some rain and best of all, the temperatures have cooled down ... a lot. Today's high is only supposed to be 70 degrees, and I'm thrilled with the 30-degree cool down. Next week looks like another hot one in the 90s but I guess that's summertime and it shouldn't reach 100. 

I'm going down to see Nugget tomorrow and have bagels with Jess but other than that, I've got a blissful weekend to myself. I hope you're anticipating an equally satisfying weekend!

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/25/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with some SIPs (Socks In Progress). It's been too d*&n hot to do much else beside sit in front of the air conditioner and knit small things. There were several hours of awfulness where I had to pick snow peas in John's garden at Ryan's but it was as terrible as you might imagine so I won't dwell on that. 

The blue and green striped one is ready for me to start on the toes, and the rainbow one is ready for the heel flap and turn if I can gather some gumption. Today it's supposed to reach 100 again, but motivation might be just around the corner tomorrow when the temperatures (hopefully) begin to drop. 

I read only one book this week, but it was a memorable four-stars. Ocean Vuong’s The Emperor of Gladness is a tender, quietly powerful novel that explores the fragile beauty of human connection, the resilience of the working class, and the long, difficult journey toward self-worth. This is Vuong’s first full-length work of fiction since On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and once again he brings his signature lyrical style to a narrative that is emotionally rich and deeply humane.

At the heart of the novel is Hai, a 19-year-old Vietnamese American who survives a suicide attempt only because it’s interrupted by Grazina, an elderly widow with dementia and an unshakable sense of presence. In a move that serves both of them, Hai agrees to become her caretaker. What follows is not a conventional redemption arc, but a deeply nuanced exploration of grief, shame, dignity, and the strange, sometimes stubborn ways people come to care for one another.

Vuong’s prose is spare but luminous, filled with quiet observations that land like revelations. He gives dignity and emotional texture to the lives of people often overlooked—immigrants, the poor, the aging, the young who are barely hanging on. The relationship between Hai and Grazina unfolds with the slow trust of real life, becoming a kind of found family that neither of them expected but both desperately need.

Some readers might find the narrative more reflective and "dreamy" than event-driven, but that’s part of its strength. Vuong doesn't seem interested in melodrama—he's invested in emotional truth. And in that sense, this novel delivers in every line.

The Emperor of Gladness is a poignant meditation on what keeps us alive, and who we might become when someone—unexpectedly, stubbornly—believes we are worth saving. Quietly devastating and deeply compassionate, this is a novel to read slowly, and remember long after.

What are you making and reading this week?

Read With Us: It's A New Book!

We’re thrilled to announce the Read With Us summer selection: The Friend by Sigrid Nunez!

Winner of the 2018 National Book Award for Fiction, The Friend is a deeply moving and quietly powerful novel about grief, literature, and the unexpected ways love and healing enter our lives. At the center of the story is a woman mourning the sudden loss of her closest friend—and the large Great Dane he left behind. What begins as an act of reluctant caretaking becomes a meditation on loss, solitude, the creative life, and the profound companionship of animals.

Nunez’s writing is spare, elegant, and laced with both literary reflection and emotional honesty. It’s the kind of book that feels intimate and expansive all at once—a perfect choice for thoughtful discussion.

Why we chose The Friend

• It explores grief and healing in a unique and compassionate way

• It's full of literary insight—perfect for readers who love books about books

• It offers rich discussion points on friendship, mental health, writing, and the human-animal bond

• No nuns :-) 

• We had chosen another book but were still a bit unsure about the choice. At the last minute we changed our minds. The Friend has been made into a movie with Naomi Watts and Bill Murray. Our hope is that we can read the book, watch the movie, and compare and contrast. We'll be providing more details about this later. 

The hardcover, Kindle, and audio versions of the book are all available from my library without much of a wait. Hopefully, we'll all have plenty of time to place a hold, get the book, and read it. The Kindle and paperback versions are priced reasonably from Amazon and the audio version is narrated beautifully by Louisa Harland. I'm sure your local bookseller could order a copy for you if you're lucky enough to have a local bookseller.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts through July. Discussion day for The Friend is scheduled for Tuesday, September 16, 2025 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Whether you're new to Sigrid Nunez or already a fan, we hope you'll Read With Us and discover (or revisit) this beautifully written novel. 

Sometimes Monday ...

 ... is a day when you just want to lie in front of the air conditioner with a wet washcloth on your forehead. Our weather this week looks quite warm too d**n hot, like much of the rest of the country:

This is one week I'm really not looking forward to, but I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for 78 degrees on Friday.

I hope your Monday is a good one and you can find a way to stay cool this week!

A Gathering of Poetry: June 2025

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. Today I made sure I didn't forget about A Gathering of Poetry like I did last month, and this month Billy Collins came to my rescue. 

I had a lime tree that died and I recently bought a new one. It's outside and growing well and I recently caught myself thinking, "I just love this little lime tree." A few days ago I was washing my hands with a bar of Ivory soap and found myself thinking, "I really love the smell of this soap." Thankfully, Billy Collins had already written a poem about these moments.  

Aimless Love
by Billy Collins

This morning as I walked along the lake shore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door—
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor—
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

 

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"Aimless Love". Collins, Billy. Nine Horses: Pan Macmillan and Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003.

You can read more about the poet here and here. 

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are

more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your

favorite poems. The more the merrier!

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/18/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers with the slightly sad tale of a broken needle. I did order a bamboo circular so I could attempt the four-stitch decreases in Soft Current (ravelry link) on needles that aren't too slippery, but they arrived with a broken point in the sealed package, so I've ordered a different type. The replacement should arrive sometime this week, but I'm not sitting around waiting impatiently. I cast on for a pair of socks with some self-striping yarn in my favorite colors. I'm really enjoying working on them and am heading down the foot on the first sock.

 

John is leaving on Saturday to go fishing in Alaska so I figured that since he is taking a pretty nice trip I at least deserved some sock yarn. My skein of Martian Rainbow from Must Stash arrived on Monday and I'm anxious to get that wound and cast on. It's raining again/still, so I had to take indoor photos. The colors aren't quite right, but eventually it will stop raining and I can take some pictures outdoors.

 

 

So for now, the fiddly lace in Soft Current can wait.  

I finished two books this week. The first is entitled Bad Company: Private Equity and the Death of the American Dream. I wasn't sure this was a book for me when I was first offered the ARC, but I decided it was worth reading to educate myself about what private equity firms really are and how they operate. 

In Bad Company, Megan Greenwell pulls back the curtain on the destructive influence of private equity firms, whose sole mission—to generate maximum profit for investors—often comes at immense human cost. With sharp reporting and deep empathy, Greenwell explores how this opaque, powerful industry has reshaped American life in ways most of us aren't aware of until it’s too late.

From retail chains gutted for parts, to nursing homes where patient care declines as profits rise, to newsrooms stripped of staff and mission, Greenwell brings the consequences of financial chicanery down to the ground level—where ordinary workers and communities are left to pick up the pieces. The sections on housing and health care are particularly chilling, showing how private equity firms insert themselves into essential services, extract wealth, and then leave ruin behind.

What makes this book stand out is its focus on people—not just policies or profit margins. Greenwell never loses sight of the lives destroyed, dignity eroded, and communities disrupted when decisions are made purely in service of capital.

While some readers may wish for more policy prescriptions or structural analysis, Bad Company succeeds as a necessary, accessible, and often enraging look at an industry that thrives in the shadows. It’s a wake-up call to anyone who’s ever asked, “Why does everything feel like it’s getting worse?”

Thank you to NetGalley and Dey Street Books for providing me with a copy of the book. It was published on June 10, 2025.  

The second book, The Beast in the Clouds, is a fascinating blend of adventure, history, and science, chronicling a little-known chapter in the lives of the Roosevelt brothers—Theodore Jr. and Kermit—on their ambitious and dangerous 1920s expedition to China in search of the mythical giant panda. Nathalia Holt brings a sharp eye to the historical detail, placing this journey in the broader context of Western imperialism, scientific exploration, and family legacy.

The book shines when it digs into the Roosevelt family dynamic, particularly the pressure the brothers felt to live up to their father’s name. Their psychological struggles, especially Kermit's lifelong battle with depression, are handled with nuance. Holt also gives us a vivid portrait of the expedition itself, from treacherous mountains to cultural misunderstandings, and paints a complex picture of China at a moment of political upheaval.

That said, the pacing occasionally lags, particularly in the midsection, and the book sometimes feels torn between being an adventure story and a historical analysis. I also would have appreciated more in-depth coverage of the ecological and zoological significance of the panda, beyond its role as a symbol or trophy.

Still, Holt’s research is impeccable, and her prose is accessible and often poetic. This is a compelling story about obsession, legacy, and the fine line between scientific curiosity and colonial arrogance. A great read for fans of narrative nonfiction and those curious about forgotten corners of exploration history.

Thank you to Atria and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 1, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?